


As We Sleep

by PrincessaKyla



Series: Gotham Fairytales [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Background Relationships, Brain Damage, Car Accidents, Coma, Dicky needs some sleep, Induced coma, M/M, Mad Science, Medical Experimentation, Medical Malpractice, Medical Trauma, Meet-Cute, Non Approved Medical Testing, Non-superhero AU, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sleep Deprivation, cute relationship, fairytale AU, fairytale retelling, in that Dicky does not consent to being an experiment subject
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:13:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessaKyla/pseuds/PrincessaKyla
Summary: Dick Grayson-Wayne is the oldest child, and primed to take on Wayne Enterprises with his sister Barbara when Bruce officially retires. But his anxiety is causing major problems, primarily in his sleep habits. In trying to get a handle on those issues, he meets Wally West, a nurse practitioner at Gotham University Hospital, who works in the sleep clinic and coma ward. Will it be love? Or will Dicky's health problems stand in the way?A Gotham Fairytale retelling of Sleeping Beauty
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Wally West
Series: Gotham Fairytales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844068
Kudos: 28
Collections: Gotham Fairy Tales





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags! This fic heavily involves medical settings and events.

Staring at a screen and crunching numbers should have a limit, Dicky thought, rubbing his eyes blearily. The numbers were just...not adding up anymore. “Dicky,” Babs said softly from the doorway. “You should sleep.”

“In a minute,” he yawned, shaking his head slightly. “Gotta...gotta run these numbers…”

“They’ll be there in the morning. You’re exhausted. Bed. Now.”

Before he could protest, she was forcibly closing the laptop and pulling him away. “Bed. Now.”

“Fine.” Dicky let her pull him out of his office and across the manor, dead quiet at that point of the night.

She stopped at his door and smiled. “Alfred changed the sheets for you, and I laid out a nice cozy bath for you. Get clean then  _ sleep _ .” Her voice was firm, and the expression on her face told him he should potentially be very afraid if he disobeyed.

“Thanks, Babs,” he murmured, kissing her cheek before stumbling his way into the room, stripping as he headed for the bathroom. The bath was, indeed, ready for him, the water still steaming, smelling faintly of rose and lavender. He sank gratefully into the water and let his eyes drift closed. He should take more breaks like this, maybe. Couldn’t be bad to take a breather every once in a while. Maybe… Thoughts trailed off to nothingness and he was gone to the world, the water cooling around him slowly, keeping him cozy in dreamland.

Dreamland was not pleasant though.

Dicky had never been one to dream much, if he was honest. He generally didn’t remember his dreams — after his parents’ death, they’d stopped becoming memorable outside of an occasional dream about them, and an even rarer nightmare. But lately, he’d been having multiple vivid dreams a night. Tonight was no different. All at once aware it was a dream but also feeling as if it were entirely real, Dicky made his way through a warped version of the manor. Walls were cracked, covered in peeling paint and dusty wallpaper so dirty as to be a completely different color from what he knew it to be in reality. The floors squeaked in places they shouldn’t, the carpet was threadbare. It was silent as a tomb. If anything told Dicky this was a dream, it was the sheer, cloying silence of the house. The place was never actually this quiet, even at 2 am when everyone but Jason was asleep. Dicky’s feet carried him to Bruce’s study on autopilot, and at the door — which hung off its hinges, a panel at the top missing — he paused. B’s study was off limits when the door was closed. So why did he feel the need to go in? He gave the door a gentle push and it swung open, revealing a room full of debris. A hole in the roof allowed weak sunlight in, as a pigeon cooed softly from somewhere.

“Bruce?” Dicky called softly. “Bruce are you here?”

“Traitor,” Bruce said, voice coming from a darkened corner of the room. “Failure. Disappointment. Losing the company, ruining the entire family.”

“B, I– I’m sorry. I’ve been working my butt off and I—“

“Not. Good. Enough. I never should have adopted you, never should have made you the heir. Poor Barbara, trying to counteract all your mistakes. Worked herself to death. Yet here you are, alive and well. Are you happy now?”

“No…” Dicky said softly. “No nononoNO!”

He awoke with a start, flying upright from where he’d been leaned back against the tub, breathing too fast, too harsh, even as his heartbeat filled his ears. “No, no, not a disappointment, not a failure. Not gonna let B down. No. No.” Curling up with his knees to his chest, he rocked gently, trying to catch his breath and calm down. The water was tepid, almost chilling, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Not yet.

Eventually, though, he managed to drag himself out, drying off with a big fluffy towel before throwing on a pair of boxers and trudging off to bed. He doubted he’d get anymore sleep but he had to at least try and rest.

He wondered if that was all he’d ever be able to do again.

Wally meandered his way through the sleep clinic on his morning rounds, humming softly to himself. It was quiet, only the occasional tv or radio to break things up. In each room, he had a routine. First he said good morning to the resident of the room, cheery smile in place, before checking their chart for any changes to the care routine. Assuming no changes, he would go through various bits of care — an iv dose here, a pill there, changing the occasional bandage — before documenting all that had been done. 

As a nurse practitioner, Wally didn’t have to do the rounds he did. He could have delegated them out to an RN, really. But he enjoyed the rounds, enjoyed getting to interact with the patients who could respond. The sleep clinic was alive, full of people who came and went, whose lives he could watch get better.

It was preferable to the coma ward, which Wally also oversaw. The silence there wasn’t peaceful so much as stifling, harsh. A reminder of life stalled, tucked away in unresponsive bodies. 

Bracing himself, he stepped through the doors into what felt like a different world. The air was very still. There was noise, yes, but it felt muted, distant. As Wally continued his rounds, cheery smile still in place, still greeting each and every patient, he could feel the sadness creeping in. Many of these people were medically induced comas gone wrong. These people should have woken up, healed, gone on about their lives. And instead, here they were, stuck in Wally’s care, coma inducers long stopped but their brains still only performing basic functions. It broke his heart. 

As he moved from one room to the next, he heard the unmistakable flatline of someone being removed from life support. That would be Sarah, tiny, tired Sarah, who’d been put under to fight off a horrible case of meningitis, and just never come back up. The meningitis had gone away, but so had she.

Dr. Crane stopped next to Wally, looking at the room that had been Sarah’s for two years. “So they finally decided to let go,” he murmured. “Sad day.”

“She wasn’t showing any brain function,” Wally said softly. “Not even dreams.”

“Unfortunate. She was young. You alright?”

Wally shrugged. “As okay as one can be knowing a child is gone from the world.”

“I suppose that’s fair. How are my patients doing? Any family in yet today?”

“Not yet, here or in the sleep clinic. I figure it’ll be a quiet day though. Mrs. Quinzel-Isley’s not due in again until tomorrow, and Wednesdays are never good days to catch visitors.”

Dr. Crane considered then nodded. “I suppose you’re right. But page me if you need me.”

“Of course, doc. When have I not?”

With a chuckle, Crane left Wally to finish his rounds and go on about his day.

When Dicky stumbled his way to breakfast that morning, Bruce was immediately concerned. “Dick, did you get any sleep at all?”

All Dick could do as he slumped forward onto the table was hold up a thumb and forefinger to indicate only a little.

“You need rest. What kept you up?”

“Bad dreams….”

Bruce frowned, and Clark spoke up then. “How bad we talkin?”

“Woke up screamin….”

The two older men shared a look, concerned. At 24 almost 25, their oldest child had a lot of responsibility riding on him, far more than either of them could have wished for him. That he was now struggling to sleep on top of a very hectic schedule as COO of Wayne Enterprises was...concerning to say the least. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Tim asked gently. 

Dicky just shook his head. “Stupid bad dream to have anyway,” he mumbled. “Bruce’d disown me before he lemme ruin the whole family…”

“Dick…” Bruce said softly. “Even in your wildest moments I don’t think you  _ could _ ruin this family. You’re incredibly sensible. Too sensible.”

“Maybe ye should see someone fer the stress,” Clark recommended gently. “Or even jist as a way to...clear yer head. Mighty helpful.”

“With what time?”

Bruce made a decision then. “Let Babs handle one of your projects. Just an hour a week, a standing appointment with a doctor. We’ll pick one, get you in, see if it helps. If not, then we’ll see what they recommend. But you can’t keep running on little to no sleep, Dick. That sort of thing will kill you.” He gave a pointed look at Clark who looked extremely unaffected by his husband’s nagging. Clark’s sleep habits had gotten wrecked by years of working for Lex Luthor, and they were still not all that great. Bruce’s were only marginally better.

“Fine…” Dicky picked his head up to look at them. “But only if it means you two will actually attend more than half of the events you’re supposed to be attending.”

They both looked sheepish at that. “That’s...reasonable,” Bruce said. 

“Good.” Dicky’s head hit the table again, and he was out like a light.

And that was how, come Friday afternoon, he found himself in the waiting room of one Doctor Jonathan Crane, a psychiatrist who specialized in stress-related issues including insomnia and night terrors.

“Dick?” the receptionist said gently. “The doctor’s ready for you.”

Taking a deep breath, Dicky stepped into the well appointed office, totally unprepared for all the things to come.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please know, I picture Dr. Crane's office a lot like Hannibal Lecter's office in the show "Hannibal".

The room was quiet, hushed, but not silent. A tall clock in the corner ticked loudly, pendulum swinging. Soft piano music gently wound around furniture legs like a cat. It was cozy, warm, with comfy looking furniture. 

“Ah, Richard,” Dr. Crane said, smiling congenially from where he was quickly checking on a houseplant. “Forgive me, I realized I had forgotten to water my poppies right after I told Delilah to send you in. Please, have a seat, won’t you?”

“Please, call me Dick,” Dicky said, carefully taking a seat on the nice sofa, loving the way he sank into the cushions. “Richard is just for business or when Dad and Clark are yelling at me.”

“Does that happen a lot? Them yelling at you?” Dr. Crane just seemed curious, not really concerned.

Dick shrugged. “Not particularly. Usually only when my siblings and I get up to massive trouble. Like when we invited every eligible single in Gotham to the Wayne Gala. Bruce yelled at me then.”

“I see. And does the yelling cause you stress?”

“Not really. I grew up in the circus before he adopted me. Yelling was just part of life there, and in the manor, for a while it was just me and him, then my step mother and their son, so we sometimes had to yell to find each other. Then as he adopted more kids, it just...got louder as a houseful of children usually does.”

Crane nodded, wiping his hands as he came and sat across from Dicky. “And you get along with all of your siblings?”

“For the most part. Damian’s sort of...distant, and Jason’s PTSD makes him isolate, but we manage, we make do. We love each other, very much, and we save each other in a million little ways every day.”

“So you would say it’s not a very stressful dynamic between you the eldest and the rest.”

Dicky considered his next words carefully. “I wouldn’t say stress free, but it’s a stress I no longer know how to function without, nor would I want to, to tell the truth.”

Crane smiled. “Diplomatic to the end I see. So you and your siblings get along. How about your father and step father? I understand Clark Kent is the third second parent Bruce has brought into the home?”

“He is. We all love him very much. He’s smart and considerate, and he cares about us all.”

“So you’d say you get along?”

“I would. Remarkably well. Much better than my first stepmother, and about as well as my second stepmother.”

“So what about Bruce? How do you two get along?”

Dicky paused again. “Bruce and I have an understanding. He is my father, I am his son. But as the oldest child, I was the “Grow up and do right” guinea pig for him. And I was older, close to ten or eleven, so I remember more of the mistakes made along the way, for me and the others.”

“When you say “grow up and do right” guinea pig….”

“Bruce was basically a 20 year old child. He had to grow up fast to be able to take care of me. But he managed. He got me the things I needed, and he took care of me. But it was...rocky at first.”

“And how does that translate now?”

Dicky shrugged. “We love each other, he’s leaving his family company in mine and my sister’s hands. He’s proud of me, and I of him. I mean, in terms of parents, I lucked out. Very little emotional scarring minus some tragic deaths.”

Dr. Crane chuckled. “Well adjusted, I see. Now, your father mentioned some stressful dreams, that he thought might be related to stress at work, and fears of failing. Tell me about them.”

“Right. Um.” The room was quiet, comforting as Dicky carefully thought over the dreams and how to explain them. “They’re...they’re usually about disappointing Bruce, ruining everything. It seems stupid, really. Sometimes they’re about Lex Luthor coming back and buying us out because I drove the company into the ground.”

“So typical anxiety related stress dreams.”

“I guess.”

Dr. Crane considered. “Describe one of the most recent ones for me?”

After a small pause, Dicky swallowed hard and recounted the nightmare that had spurred this visit. “I...the house was falling apart, almost unrecognizable honestly. Holes in walls and floors, in the roof. Everything dirty and ragged. And it was too quiet. Like a tomb. I went to Bruce’s study looking for him and when I got there...he told me I ruined the family, and the company, that my sister was dead because I was so horribly irresponsible and the stress of trying to fix my mistakes had been too much. Woke up screaming, not that anyone would have heard, big and still as the manor is.”

The doctor was nodding and making notes as he listened, clearly thinking over some things. “It sounds to me,” he finally said a moment later, “that you have an intense fear of failure, and that you feel unprepared for the responsibilities you’ve been given. So we’ll be working on those, building some confidence, working on some stress management. I also want to put you through a sleep study, both at the clinic and at home, just to get a baseline reading on what your sleep is like. Then in a month or so, we’ll repeat, etcetera. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a plan, doc,” Dicky said. “I was expecting to be handed a prescription and walked to the door, honestly.”

“I don’t like prescribing medication without a little more information,” Crane said. “And in a body so young, with problems related to other things, I’m reluctant to consider sleeping medication at all. I’ll consider something for anxiety, if we find over the next couple of sessions that that is a thing you’d like to try and that might be beneficial, but it would have to be something you want. I will never force medication on you. Even a strong recommendation may be ignored, second opinions sought.”

Dicky nodded, considering. “That’s...comforting, doc. Thanks.”

Crane smiled. “Of course. Now, we still have about twenty minutes, which is just long enough to do a relaxation exercise.”

“A relaxation exercise?”

“Yes. I’d like for you to sit comfortably, feet flat on the floor, arms either beside you or in your lap, and for you to close your eyes and breathe deeply.”

Looking somewhat dubious, Dicky did as he was told, sitting stiffly and breathing.

“Good. Now, I’m going to put you in a light trance. You will still be aware of what is going on around you, you will still be able to process what I tell you consciously, but it will help you relax. Is that alright?”

“I suppose….”

Crane’s voice gentled then and he carefully walked Dicky into slower, deeper breaths, into letting his mind clear, and when he was just under enough to be compliant, he began. “We begin with the muscles of the scalp. Focus your attention on them, on the way they feel, how they encircle your head. Relax them, consciously letting go of the tension being held in the muscles. Let it flow out and into the air and away.”

For each part of the body, Crane gently moved Dicky’s attention there, centering his focus with words that helped him sink further into calm and release the tension. By the time they reached his toes, he felt more relaxed than he could ever remember feeling, almost asleep.

“Now as we return to the world,” Dr. Crane said, “I want you to breathe deeply, feel the peace in your body, feel at ease. I will count to three, and with each number, you’ll come back a little bit more. 1, start to wiggle fingers and toes. 2, shift around a bit, sit back upright. And 3, open your eyes.”

Dicky blinked and sighed softly. “Oh wow.”

“Feel relaxed?”

“Majorly.”

“Good. Now let’s schedule your in-clinic sleep study.”

Wally was struggling to keep a pleasant look on his face as he dealt with the woman practically screaming in his face about some small inconvenience being experienced as her husband got settled for care.

“Ma’am,” he said politely, forcing a smile. “I can tell that this is very distressing to you, but please, keep your volume down. We have patients already asleep for the night. Now, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to check your husband’s blood pressure myself, in a room alone with him for just a few minutes, to ensure it’s being read correctly and that it’s not a faulty cuff. I just need to make sure that this last patient waiting to check in behind you gets settled in so that we can ensure his regular sleep habits can be observed.”

The woman was a bit huffy but accepted the situation. “Fine.”

“We’d also like to offer you a coffee or other beverage, which one of the orderlies can bring you with dinner here in a few moments.”

Placated, the woman walked away, still grumbling but dealt with for now. Wally knew it was going to be a very long night with her around. Taking a deep breath, he pasted a smile back on and called the next patient, looking down to look over his chart quickly.

When he looked back up, he froze. In front of him, big blue eyes under dark hair in a slim face with a nicely squared jaw, slim shoulders and lean muscles hugged by his tshirt and a trim waist. He couldn’t see his lower half but he almost guaranteed this guy had to have killer legs and a great ass. “Richard Grayson-Wayne?” he managed, voice betraying nothing.

“Yes,” Dick said, smiling. The smile made Wally almost melt but he kept it together. “I’m here for a sleep study.” 

“Right. Here’s some forms I need you to fill out for me quickly, and then we’ll get you settled.”

Flashing another smile, Dick took the proffered clipboard and pen and sat to fill out the forms. It was hard to focus, his mind drifting every so often, usually back to the cute nurse at the desk. He had warm eyes, and kept his dark hair buzzed short on the sides but with a little lightning bolt shaved in the right side, while the top was longer, soft looking tight curls. Laugh lines at the corners of his eyes made Dicky want to pull out the slapstick to see his face light up and hear the laugh that had earned them. Shaking his head slightly, he got to work filling out the forms and quickly returned them to the desk. “Here we go!”

Wally smiled gratefully. “Thank you, sir. I’m Wally by the way, I’m the nurse practitioner in charge here. Caitlin here will get you settled in your room and get your vitals and everything, I’ll be around shortly to talk over how things will go!”

“Alright. Thank you,” Dick said, smiling before following Caitlin down the hall to the empty sleep study room. It was clinical but not cold like Dicky might expect of a hospital, fitted with warm lights and with plants in the windows, which had nice curtains and sheers. The bed in the center of the room looked nice and comfy, and Dicky took a seat on it for Caitlin to take his vital signs while he waited for Wally to come in.

“Blood pressure’s a bit elevated,” she murmured, writing that down. “But your pulse is good, breathing sounds normal, ears nose and throat clear...Alright. Go ahead and just relax. Wally’ll be in soon.” She didn’t smile but despite her somewhat short sounding tone, it was clear she wasn’t trying to come off coldly. Maybe she’d just had a bad day. 

When Wally came in a little while later, Dicky had gone ahead and changed into his comfy sweatpants and a tank top that he had belatedly realized was a bit threadbare upon putting it on. Here’s hoping Babs and Jason didn’t find out to tease him.

“Alright Mr. Grayson-Wayne,” Wally said, keeping his face buried in a medical chart. “Let’s go over tonight’s procedure and get you settled yeah?”

“Sure,” Dick said, setting his laptop aside. “And please. Call me Dicky.”

Wally looked up and smiled. “Alright then, Dicky. So. First things first. Caitlin’s going to be running your study tonight and then analyzing your results for Dr. Crane. Don’t let her briskness put you off, she just likes to get things done. She’ll take good care of you.”

“I figured maybe she was just having a bad day,” Dicky said, offering a small smile.

“Nah, she’s just real businesslike,” Wally said. “So when it gets to be about time for bed, she’ll get you hooked up to all the sensors and shut the lights out for you. You listed your normal sleep time as about 10:30 pm. Is that accurate?”

Dicky nodded. “Yeah. Bed at 10:30 as often as possible up by 5.”

Wally copied that down. “Why so early, long commute?”

“Workout then e meetings with foreign investors and breakfast, then a 20 minute commute,” Dicky said. 

“Ah. Well, tomorrow morning I do hope you’ve cleared your schedule to have a bit of a sleep in?”

Dicky nodded. “I cleared the day. Bruce’s orders.”

“Good. Well, assuming everything else checks out,” Wally said, voice trailing off a bit as he flipped through the paperwork on the clipboard in front of him before tuning back in, “you should be good to go! Got any questions for me?”

“Nope. You’re very thorough. Oh! Actually. Are you going to be here overnight?”

“I won’t but I’ll be back in the morning probably about the time your study is over. Why?”

“Just wondering if there’ll be a friendly face in the morning.” Wally’s laugh could have melted ice cubes.

Dicky was trying to remember that, or anything good at all really, as the night rolled on and anxious thought after anxious thought drove him back from the edge of sleep.

“Richard?” Caitlin’s voice came over the intercom system, soft and concerned. “You okay? Your heart rate keeps spiking sharply.”

“Just having trouble quieting my head,” he said. “I’m okay.”

“I have permission to offer you some melatonin if you’d like it. It’s natural, won’t do anything but help you fall asleep.”

Dicky considered and then nodded. “I’d like some. Thanks.”

“No problem. Give me just a sec okay?”

Dicky took a few deep breaths as he waited, staring at the ceiling in the darkness. All he wanted was to sleep. A few moments later, Caitlin came in, with a small blister pack in her hand. “Here we go. Sorry we don’t have any normal ones, just the dissolvables. Take two, let ‘em sit before swallowing. Need anything else?”

“No, I’m good...thank you.”

She gave a small smile. “You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything okay?”

“Okay.”

With a cursory check of the sensors, Caitlin left him to take the melatonin and returned to her observation room. She made a note on the file about the dose of melatonin and settled in.

Hopeful, Dicky took the melatonin and waited. It eventually lulled him to sleep, mind slowing down for which he was grateful. His sleep was peaceful for a while, which Caitlin later noted was like the calm before the storm.

Within a couple of hours, the sensors were starting to track some limb movement, and the sensors on his face were picking up clenched jaws and accelerating eye movement. “Disruption as patient enters REM sleep,” Caitlin murmured, jotting that down. She checked on other sensors as she kept an eye on him, noting a spike in heart rate that was almost simultaneous to a spike in brain wave activity. “Nightmare.” Before she could do much however, Dicky shot upright in bed, sucking in a deep breath as if he’d been in the water or otherwise unable to breathe. She clicked the intercom button. “Richard? Richard, can you hear me? You’re in the sleep clinic, you’re safe. It’s 3:15 am on Saturday the first, and you’re here for a sleep study.”

There was an exhale that sounded almost like a whimper but it was too quiet to be sure. “Thank you,” Dicky said softly. “Is it okay if I sit up for a few minutes or do you need me to go back to sleep?”

“You do whatever you need to alright? If you need out of bed, let me know so I can come disconnect you from the sensors.”

“I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

“Of course.”

Dicky sat up for a few minutes, catching his breath, before laying back down and quickly dozing off again. The cycle repeated once more around 5 am, although this time, he couldn’t manage to fall asleep again. “It’s okay,” Caitlin reassured. “Just rest.” Even though it would take her some time to get through the data, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be delivering good news once she had.


	3. Chapter 3

Wally was sort of out of it as he checked patients out the next day. Caitlin noticed of course. “You okay there Wals?” she asked, not looking up from paperwork. “Or did pretty little rich boy blow your mind?” Her tone was snarky, but it was clear she was mostly teasing.

“Oh hush,” Wally said distractedly as he handed an appointment card to the last patient of the morning’s check out and waved them out. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Yes, because a business card with his personal number and “Drinks?” written on the back is totally nothing.” She sighed. “You are as oblivious as your brother in law.”

“Hey!” Wally said, mildly offended. “I am nowhere near as bad as Barry!”

“Uh huh. So you noticed Grayson checking you out before he slipped you the card?”

Wally’s blush answered the question and Caitlin snickered. “Better call him or he’ll think you’re not interested and wouldn’t  _ that _ be awkward hm?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer her, instead getting up and heading for the break room, probably to grab her stuff and head out. That left Wally mostly alone in the clinic, for the last hour or two of the day. He stared at the card, which Caitlin, having found it sitting next to him, had tucked into the corner of his computer monitor casing where he would have to see it. Dicky’s handwriting was neat, precise, but had extra flourishes that had probably annoyed teachers for ages in school. Against his better judgement, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed.

It rang until Wally was sure it was going to go to voicemail. But at the last second, there was a click, followed by a breathless “Hello?”

“Um, hi, is...this is Wally West, the head nurse at the sleep clinic?”

“Oh! Hi! I was really hoping that wouldn’t be like...too forward a way of asking or something,” Dicky said, sounding embarrassed. “Normally I’d have asked you in person and made it clear there wasn’t gonna be an issue if you said no but you were pretty busy this morning and I had to run but um anyway. Would you like to? Get drinks that is. With me.”

Wally swallowed a giggle. It amused him greatly that such an attractive guy be such a nervous babbler, was rather endearing in fact. “I’d love to go out with you. But maybe coffee instead? I don’t drink.”

There was what sounded like a small, quiet celebration, and then Dicky was back. “Oh of course! I’d never want to put you in a situation that you were uncomfortable in or anything.”

“Oh I’m fine with other people drinking,” Wally assured. “I just don’t personally.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s good to know. So coffee? Or maybe lunch?”

“Either is fine by me. Did you have a particular time and or place in mind?”

“This afternoon? Or tomorrow if you’re busy today?”

Wally glanced at his wall calendar and smiled. “I can do today. I’m off in an hour, so I can meet you, say, noon?”

“That sounds good. Any particular place in mind?”   
“I’m up for anything, really. I’ll let you pick.”

“How do you feel about sushi?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Wally sat, fidgeting, in the corner booth he’d been seated at. Nerves had led him to show up a full 20 minutes early, and now Dicky was running about 15 minutes late. Just as Wally was starting to wonder if something had gone wrong, or that maybe he was in the wrong place, Dicky came in the door, looking around until he spotted him. He gave an easy smile and made his way over, plopping into the opposite side of the booth. “Sorry I’m late,” he said sheepishly. “Try and ask your sister for advice on what to wear and next thing you know your baby brother is trying to make you take his bodyguard with you.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was,” Dicky said. “I honestly wish I was. I’m so sorry.”

Wally smiled. “Forgiven, but this one’s on you.”

That earned a laugh. “Deal.”

They put their order in with the waiter — spicy tuna rolls, salmon nigiri, spider rolls, and a california roll, along with some crab rangoons — and then sat there awkwardly for a moment before Dicky broke the ice. “So you heard a bit of how crazy my family is. What’s your family like?”

“I’ve got an older sister, well actually she’s my cousin but her parents adopted me. She’s a reporter, and her husband is a crime scene tech for the same police department Dad works for — he’s a detective. Mom’s a housewife and makes the absolute best cookies. Now. Spill the beans about yours.”

“Oh so I should definitely expect the most thorough shovel talk ever, got it,” Dicky noted. He smiled. “My family is huge. My parents died when I was 10, but I was adopted by Bruce pretty soon after. Damian, my youngest brother, came along about...2 years after that? Bruce and his mom were a short marriage. And then Bruce went on to adopt my other siblings, Barbara and Jason while still married to Damian’s mom, and Tim, Steph, and Cass after. Then recently Bruce got remarried to a great guy named Clark.”

Wally was blinking. “Wow. Big family. What does everyone do?”

“Damian’s still in school, as is Cass. Steph runs LexCorp, Tim runs the Wayne Foundation, Jason’s still trying to figure some stuff out but he was in the military for a little while, and then Babs and I run Wayne Enterprises. Clark’s a farmer turned reporter, and Bruce is focusing on his charity work right now.” When he noticed Wally’s floored expression, Dicky winced. “Geez that sounded as awful as I thought it would. Um, I swear we’re all just...regular people who just happen to have money.”

“Well damn I could have ordered the spicy salmon roll too,” Wally joked. “Breathe, Dicky, I promise I won’t bite or turn my nose up at you just for having money. Just prove you’re not a prick.”

The smile he got in response could have put the sun to shame. “That I can definitely do. So...you’re a nurse. What made you decide that’s what you wanted to do? And what kind of nurse are you exactly?”

Wally sipped his drink and was about to answer when the food arrived, so he waited until everything was situated and they’d started eating to answer. “So firstly, I’m a nurse practitioner which is basically the step below a doctor. I can write minor prescriptions, could even technically have my own practice if I wanted. But I like working at the hospital, especially the sleep clinic although I might move to pediatrics soon.” He munched a piece of the tuna roll before answering the other bit. “So...have you heard of Barry “The Flash” Allen?”

Dicky looked confused but nodded. “Yeah. Of course. Fastest runner to ever hit the US Olympic field.”

“Well, he’s my brother in law. And he had been pushing me to go out for the team. People were starting to call me Kid Flash, although a few people also called me Impulse. Anyway, Barry and I trained a lot and when I was...mmm 17? he thought I was ready to start in the trials so we got everything set up, get to the first race, doing great. But by...race 5 some of the others were starting to lag and the kid next to me tripped, went sprawling into my lane and I tripped over him. Tore both my acl’s, my right achilles and somehow managed to get gravel in my knee that ruined some cartilage. Months of surgery and p.t. later, I still felt like me due to a very good therapist and an amazing nursing team. And I’d just...sort of fallen in love with it. So now here I am, two master’s degrees later and...yeah.”

“You’re happy?”

“Very.” Wally smiled, popping a piece of California roll in his mouth. “Took a lot of work but very worth it. What about you? How’d you end up doing what you do?”

Dicky shrugged, looking down. “Oldest child, so automatically the heir to the company.” He stirred at some wasabi paste. “I got a degree in entrepreneurship on a full ride scholarship for gymnastics.”

“Oh wow really? You must be really good!”

“So people tell me. Robin the Boy Wonder.”

“You’re shitting me! You’re  _ that  _ Richard Grayson?! Holy shit you were the best damn aerialist the US Team ever saw! What happened that you pulled out? You were a surefire bet for HongKong!”

Dicky shifted and finally looked at him. “Thank you. I...my stepmother died. Or, well, not technically my stepmother. But almost. And that, in combination with Tim arriving just meant...it meant the family needed me and so I stepped down, stayed home, went to school. By the time it had calmed down again, I was too old.” He gave a wry smile. “An interesting thing to have in common.”

Wally chuckled. “Well maybe we’ll be able to raise some Olympians or something,” he joked. 

Dicky laughed. “Maybe. Maybe. I think Bruce was vaguely disappointed I didn’t pursue that dream but in truth my family comes first.”

“I can respect that,” Wally said, earnestly.

“So switching to a lighter subject than dashed dreams,” Dicky said, smiling, “What do you do in your spare time?”

“I read. A lot. And I do yoga, and swim. And I’m pretty handy with tools.”

“Oh I love swimming. We should go out on the bay sometime, take out a sailboat or something and swim a bit. Cold but totally worth it.”

Wally loved that idea. “Is this a second date proposal already?” he asked.

“Why yes I think it might be,” Dicky said knowingly. 

“Good. I’d like that.”

As they ate, it was easy to exchange banter back and forth, teasing like they’d known each other for ages. It just felt...right.

Wally loved it.

Dicky was scared.

He did his best to swallow it as he paid the check, which Wally fought him for, despite having said this one was on Dicky, and then glanced at his watch. “How were we here for two and a half hours? It feels like it was 15 minutes!”

“I know. Time just...flew.” Wally sighed. “I’m glad though. That definitely makes the prospect of a second date appealing.”

Dicky smiled. “Good. I’m very glad to hear that.” They stopped next to Wally’s car then and Dicky shuffled his feet. “Um...so I’ll text you later? Or do you text me? Um yeah one of those is right I’m sure right? Oh gosh I’m starting to ramble sorry I do that sometimes around pretty people that I like —“

With a chuckle, Wally leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “You’re pretty adorable when you do that you know. Very graceful until a moment when you’re worried that maybe you’ll say the wrong thing to the cute boy.” He smiled and flicked Dicky’s nose before climbing into his car. “I’ll text you when I get home and I hope you’ll do the same.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I can— I can do that.” Dicky desperately tried to save his composure but he knew it was shot.

Laughing, Wally closed his door, rolling down the window as he cranked it. “You’re a goddamn Disney Princess, Dicky. I hope you know that.”

Dicky was sure his cheeks had never burned hotter than they did while Wally pulled away, either from a blush or a smile as huge.


	4. Chapter 4

A month or two of “cloud nine honeymoon phase” later, Dicky was home for breakfast with the family for the first time in a while, rather than already in virtual meetings or, as had been the case more recently, at Wally’s place. “I want to meet him,” Damian said. He and Dicky were sat at the breakfast table, enjoying some oatmeal, and if Dicky was honest he didn’t pick up on Damian’s meaning at first.   
“Meet who, shortstack?” he asked.

Damian huffed. “Your...male companion. Wallace.”

It was sheer dumb luck Dicky wasn’t eating anything at that moment to choke on, but he still managed to end up coughing profusely when his body decided to choke on its own spit. “What?” he finally managed. “Dames, we’ve only been dating a month or two. It’s….a little soon.”

“You enjoy his company,” Damian said. “And I wish to meet this person who is taking up so much of your free time.”

That made Dicky blush a little. While he hadn’t intentionally been shunting family aside to spend time with Wally, he had definitely made a bit more time for him than for the family recently. Most of them understood, and knew it would level out eventually. But Damian was probably a little ticked off. “Alright,” Dicky said. “I’ll bring him to dinner.” He paused. “And this weekend why don’t you and I go hit up the arcade huh?”

Damian smiled, a rare sight if Dicky was honest. “I would like that.”

“I’ll make sure I get change on my way home Friday.”

Tim came in a few minutes later and Damian slinked off, probably to sulk a bit. “Still avoiding you like the plague, I see,” Dicky said. “What did you even do?”

“Offered a correction to his stance,” Tim said. “He and Diana were sparring and I said if he shifted his foot about half an inch right, he’d be stabler and better able to shift from defensive to offensive.”

Dicky gave his brother a look. “And what made you think that would go over okay if he didn’t ask?”

Tim shrugged. “Diana asked.” Dicky just sighed and shook his head. “What?” Tim asked, mouth full of granola. “She did!”

Tousling his hair, Dicky headed off towards the garage to head into work. As he geared up to get on his bike, his phone dinged with some notification or other, causing him to wake the screen and smile. The picture was of Wally on their third date, which had been a trip to the zoo. After hiking all over the zoo, feeding camels and giraffes, holding a lemur, and petting a Galapagos tortoise, they had stopped for ice cream. While licking his cone, Wally had managed to get a smear on his nose, which Dicky caught on camera right before he wiped it off. It made him happy to see, and Wally had compared it to wearing a locket. 

“Hey Birdy,” Babs called out. “Stop ogling your boyfriend and pay attention to driving yeah? Don’t feel like going to your funeral okay?”

“Huh? Oh yeah yeah. No it goes to Do Not Disturb automatically once I start moving and it goes in the saddlebag.” He smiled at her. “You know Bruce taught me to be careful, Babs.”

She nodded. “Still wish you’d just ride in with me or something. It’s a long way to go by motorcycle.”

Dicky shrugged and pulled on his helmet. “Gives me a chance to clear my head. Plus you know I can’t stand the wait for your fancy coffee at the drive through. See you at the office.”

He kicked the bike into gear then and pulled off, tires spitting a bit of gravel as he did. His sister meant well, he knew, which soothed the mild sting of being treated like he wasn’t trusted. The whole family did it, sometimes, acting like he wasn’t extremely careful, and like he needed reminding of rules he had known and never broken for years. He knew the family meant well, but their regular reminders made him feel sick.

But Wally never did that to him.

Driving gave him a chance to think back to some of the dates they’d been on so far, especially the arcade. They’d decided it was a good way to fit in an hour or two of time together after both getting off of work. Dicky’d bought them an obscene number of tokens — “way more than I ever got as a kid” he’d said, with Wally agreeing — and they’d played every game they could.

Things were pretty great until they hit skiball, which quickly got competitive. “Oh come  _ on _ !” Wally said, as Dicky scored yet another 100. “There is no way you’re not cheating!”

“How?” Dicky asked, laughing. “It’s  _ skiball _ , Wally.”

“I dunno but I’m gonna figure it out!” Wally exclaimed, grinning. He’d pulled Dicky in for a kiss then, holding him close for a moment. “Always a laugh riot with you, isn’t it?” At the end of the night, Dicky had exchanged some of his tickets for a little bear that he presented to Wally with a flourish, getting called a Disney princess again.

Dicky’s musings ended as he made into the heart of Gotham traffic and he needed all of his attention to navigate the madness. Eventually, though, he made it to his parking spot at Wayne Enterprises and headed inside, motojacket over his shoulder until he tucked it on its peg in his office. Having done that, he made his way directly to his coffee maker, desperate for caffeine. The nightmares had gotten less intense and fewer in number since starting therapy, but he still wasn’t really sleeping well, and he’d started to have problems falling asleep, either from anxiety about having more nightmares, or just general brain overactivity. He’d made notes to give to Dr. Crane at their appointment that evening, and truthfully couldn’t wait to get there. He always slept easier after an appointment.

The day dragged itself along, requiring multiple cups of coffee before Babs finally dragged him out to a business lunch they had. 

“You look awful,” she said bluntly. “Worse than you did in the garage this morning.”

Dicky snorted. “Gee, thanks, sis. Definitely what every guy wants to hear.” He stifled a yawn and blinked slowly.

“Take the afternoon off after lunch,” Babs said gently. “You’re ahead on everything we need you for alright? Honestly you could take a whole week or two off and it would all be just fine.”

“I could never —“

“You will,” Babs said. “I will make them change the locks on your office door if I need to. You’re going to take some time off. Get Wally to go somewhere with you or something. Stay home. I don’t care. Just don’t come to work and don’t do any work out of the office.”

Dicky looked at her, mildly scared. “Alright then. Jeez.”

The light glinted off of her glasses as she raised an eyebrow at him. “Glad we’re on the same page, brother mine.”

And indeed, after lunch Dicky set up an away message for his email and phone, which his secretary promised to check in on and then….then he was looking at an empty three weeks. 

But what to do with them?

Wally was in the grocery store when Dicky called. “Hey, babe,” he said. “You okay? Normally don’t call this time of day.”

“Well,” Dicky sighed. “I’ve not normally been handed three weeks mandatory vacation.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish. Babs threatened to change the locks on my office. And said something about how maybe this will make Bruce actually come do his job rather than leaving it to us.”

A startled laugh escaped before Wally could stop it. “Holy shit, is your sister mad. Wow. So what are you going to do with three weeks of vacation?”

It took a second but then Dicky rushed out, “I was wondering if maybe you would want to go somewhere with me?”

Wally blinked. “You want to take a trip together?” he clarified.

“Yeah. Obviously you’re free to say no and we can forget I asked if it’s not an appealing idea.”

“No no, I’d love to. I just need to put in for time off work which takes a week to get approved usually. I’ve got some time saved up so I could probably get about two weeks free.”

Dicky was clearly floored. “You— you mean you—“

“Why wouldn’t I, babe?”

“I don’t know. Things just...usually fall apart right about now?”

“Well, clearly you’ve only dated idiots until now,” Wally said. “Or, well, just the wrong people. Whatever the case, though, I’d love to go somewhere with you. Just nothing international, I need to renew my passport.”

“That’s fine. I...I was sort of thinking of heading up to Vermont. We have a cabin there and it’s real nice and...away from things. And we could maybe stop in New York on the way up?”

“That sounds wonderful. Cabin have a kitchen?”

“Yeah. Fully equipped, got a great view.”

“Cool. We’ll pick up groceries, do some cooking then.”

“Sounds good. Oh uh and one more thing.”

Wally hated the hesitance in Dicky’s voice. “What’s that?”

“Um….do you wanna come to family dinner tonight?”

“To-tonight? After your therapy appointment?”

“Yeah. They’re uh….they really wanna meet you and if I don’t ask you to just show up tonight then, well, I’ll wimp out.”

Wally chuckled. “Okay baby, I’ll be there.”

He regretted agreeing to go as soon as he got home and had to figure out what to wear. In a panic, he called Iris and Caitlin. “Help.”

The two women arrived at his apartment together and promptly vetoed most of his wardrobe. “The Waynes have money,” Iris said. “Family dinner will be a fairly nice affair I suspect. Bruce and the butler are big on tradition.”

“That cashmere sweater I got you for Christmas would be perfect,” Caitlin said, voice muffled as she dug through the closet. “With those khakis you own but never wear….aha!” She emerged, sweater held aloft victoriously.

Wally looked at it, frowning. “It’s the middle of summer. No.”

“What else are you going to wear?!”

“I have a nice button down,” Wally said, opening a drawer to reveal it, still in its packaging. “Will that work? With a tie?”

The two women shared a look. “You’ll want a Windsor knot,” Caitlin said. “It’s nicer.”

“Belt and khakis, belt matching shoes,” Iris said. “No jacket though. Although, maybe jacket no tie?” she asked Caitlin thoughtfully.

The redhead considered. “Could work. Less...junior high, more young professional.” She started rifling through his closet again, looking over his limited range of two blazers and a sport coat. “This one.” She held up an ash colored blazer. “This over that blush shirt with the beige slacks. Don’t tuck the shirt, wear the cognac dress shoes.”

Wally could feel the wide eyed overwhelm on his face. With a sigh, Caitlin pulled the designated shoes from the closet. “These,” she said. “And the belt that matches. The beige pants you wore to my engagement party. Don’t tuck the shirt, don’t button your top button. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah I can do that.”

[=--“Good. We’ll leave you now, then. We’ve men of our own to corral.” Wally was laughing too hard to see them out.

Promptly at 6:30, Wally pulled into the circle drive in front of Wayne manor, swallowing panic. His car, while not exactly junk, was  _ not _ nice enough to be in front of this house. And his department store blazer felt cheap. Dicky dressed pretty simply, but Wally knew he dressed down for their dates, and even his casual was designer. Swallowing the mild panic, he headed up the steps and rang the bell.

The door was opened by a stiff looking older man, who spoke with a crisp London accent. “Ah, you must be Mr. West. We’ve been expecting you, please come in.” After closing the door, the man bowed slightly. “Alfred Pennyworth, at your service, sir. I have been the butler here for longer than Master Bruce has been alive. The family is in the lounge. Allow me to show you the way.” Wally followed him to a room that, for all it’s finery, felt homey and easy going. Dicky sprang up and came to intercept them before they reached the others.

“Thanks Alfred. I’ve got it from here.”

“Of course, Master Dick. Pardon me while I finish dinner.” With a smart turn, the man quickly vanished from the room.

Wally watched him go, wide eyed, then turned back to Dicky. “Guess it’s time to meet the family then?”


	5. Chapter 5

Dicky took a deep breath before turning to lead Wally over to the others. “Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Wallace West. Wally, meet my family.”

Wally gave a hesitant smile and a small wave. “Nice to meet everyone.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Bruce said, smiling and stepping forward, offering a handshake. “Bruce Wayne, Dick’s adoptive father.”

“Hi Mr. Wayne. This house is amazing.”

That earned a chuckle. “You’ll have to give that compliment to Alfred. At least for most of the public parts of the house.”

Dick rolled his eyes, smiling. “We all know you love to go antiquing, Bruce,” he said.

“Now, now, be nice boys,” Clark said, stopping next to his husband and smiling as he also offered a hand to Wally. “Clark Kent, Bruce’s husband.”

“My trophy husband,” Bruce joked.

“Other way around, darlin,” Clark said, amused.

“Oh right, my mistake dear.” Bruce’s smile was almost painfully bright, and earned some playful gagging and retching from the other young people gathered, one young man in particular. “Jason, you’ve made your point,” Bruce said. “You can let up now.”

A young man a couple of years younger than Dicky, with a wide silvery white streak in his hair, smirked from behind Bruce. “Awh c’mon Dad, you know I must make my love known in the noisiest way possible,” he said. Looking at Wally, he said, “Just wait. They get worse. Jason, by the way. The one most likely to kick your ass if you hurt our boy. I was special forces so watch your back.”

Wally chuckled. “Good to know. You have my permission to mop the floor with me if I hurt him.”

“Excellent.”

Their sisters all rolled their eyes at that. “I’m Babs,” said a young woman about Dicky’s age and with very very ginger hair. “Short for Barbara.”

“Stephanie, but call me Steph,” a blonde woman with sharp eyes said, barely looking up from a pda she was typing furiously on. “Oh, and this is Cassandra, but she goes by Cass. She doesn’t talk much.” The dark haired girl next to her waved, offering a small smile that Wally returned.

“We’re still missing Tim, Damian and Diana,” Bruce murmured. Before he could say more, though, voices could be heard growing closer and the trio entered, clearly in the midst of some sort of discussion, though Wally couldn’t pick out a single word in English. “There they are.” He cleared his throat, getting their attention and then nodded in Wally’s direction. “We have a guest.”

Diana’s eyes went wide. “Oh! My apologies, friend. You must be Dicky’s Wally. I am Diana, Tim’s sister and Damian’s bodyguard and cousin.”

“Just….go with it and I’ll explain later,” Dicky said. 

“Okay. Nice to meet you, Diana.”

“I’m Tim,” Tim offered.

Damian, for his part, stepped closer and looked at Wally closely, gaze sharp and unforgiving. “He is not a fighter,” he finally said. “He is like Lane. Your si’la roj will be short.”

“Um….?” Wally looked to the others for clarification.

Everyone was laughing and looking away, while Dicky, whose face was beet red, looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. “Babe?” Wally said softly.

“Si’la roj is the traditional fighting dance of Sataria,” Tim finally explained. “Part of getting engaged is having one with your partner.” Dicky’s face, if possible, got even redder. “I think Damian’s making a prediction.”

“It is not a prediction,” Damian said. “It is fact. When they become engaged the si’la roj will be short.”

“Damian, we’ve only been dating a few months,” Dicky said, voice sounding strangled. “You’re gonna scare him off.”

“Father and Kent only dated a short time before becoming permanently attached, even if they waited a time to marry. Diana and Lane married very quickly. Todd and Danvers are being unbearably slow with their marriage.”

“Hey!”

“Damian,” Bruce said gently. “Jason and Kara are far more the norm than Clark and I or Diana and Lois.”

Damian huffed but said nothing else. Wally looked at Dicky and gently took him aside. “Hey, breathe for me, baby, breathe.”

With a nod, Dicky took a few deep breaths, calming noticeably. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Look, I’ll admit the comment surprised me but it takes a lot more than something said by a 14 or 15 year old to run me off okay?”

“Okay.”

Wally gave him a warm smile and when Alfred announced a few seconds later that dinner was ready, he took his hand and walked to the dining room with him. The table was set comfortably, and everyone took their seats quickly, clearly eager to eat.

“Three courses tonight,” Alfred said. “Starting with tomato soup, followed by roast beef and lamb, and finished with a homemade chocolate passion fruit meringue pie.”

“Sounds magnificent, Alfred,” Bruce said. “Everyone say thank you.” They all chorused a “thank you, Alfred” and Wally detected a slight hint of amusement in the older man’s face as he bowed and went to retrieve the first course. “So,” Bruce said casually. “How was therapy, Dick?”

Dick sighed. “It was fine. We upped the anxiety meds, and he started me on a sleeping medication to combat the insomnia.”

Bruce frowned. “Well hopefully that helps. The talk therapy is helping as well?”

“A lot, honestly. It’s been helping me process.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Worth paying for it all out of pocket then.”

“I think vacation will also help immensely,” Babs said, not looking at her adoptive father as she took a sip of her soup. “As will  _ someone _ coming back to work.”

Bruce sighed. “Will no amount of apologies make up for that?”

“Nope. But I do appreciate you keep trying.”

“Fair enough.” Bruce continued around the table, checking in with each of his children and Clark. Tim had spent the day coordinating a couple of new events through the Wayne Foundation, Stephanie had had a meeting with Pam Isley about ways to further improve LexCorp’s environmental impact and outreach, while Damian and Cass had gone to school and worked on martial arts. Babs had dug into the technological overhaul of Wayne Enterprises, which had been giving her no end of grief. Clark had the best check in of all, though, with Diana’s wife, Lois, who worked with him at the Daily Planet, dragging him on what turned out to be a wild goose chase turned new story. “So we get to China Town, which I found a new dumpling place for you and Kara to try, Jason,” he said. “We get there and this place has been closed for ages. So of course, Lois starts asking around, and it turns out—“ Clark paused here, taking a sip of his drink as Alfred cleared the soup away “— that the owners were actually already deported and their niece had run the place pretty much into the ground. But she’d kept up her lifestyle somehow and the neighbors had fantastical stories. So we tracked her down, and when we found her, turns out she’d been running a gambling ring, a massage parlor, and another restaurant, and totally disregarded whatever operation her aunt and uncle had had going.”

“You’re joking,” Bruce said.

“Not a bit.”

“An industrious family,” Bruce said.

Jason opened his mouth and Dicky cut him off with a tossed roll before he could say anything. “No.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were going to, something not appropriate for polite company.”

That earned a hardy eye roll but no more arguments and Wally hid a chuckle in his water glass. The rest of dinner kept on in the same vein, stories of the day’s insanity and hilarious reactions. Over dessert, the conversation came back around to Wally. “So you work at the hospital?” Bruce asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Wally said. “As a nurse practitioner in the coma ward and the sleep clinic, although I’m looking to switch to pediatrics or maternity soon. Just for a change of pace.”

“I see. And what made you go into the medical field? Why a nurse practitioner and not a doctor?”

Dicky gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand. Wally took a deep breath. “Um, I was an Olympic hopeful, doing fairly well and an accident on the track ended up screwing both of my acl’s. So a couple of surgeries and a bunch of pt later, I was totally in love with medicine and having worked with a great nurse practitioner who’d really shown me the ropes I liked the path I would take to get here better, liked the work better.”

“Fair enough,” Bruce said. “Any thoughts on setting up your own practice? What’s your specialty?”

“I specialized in general and family medicine,” Wally said. “I’ve considered opening my own practice but my malpractice insurance would get more expensive, plus I’d be covering overhead and having to pay a couple of rn’s. Not worth it right now. I like the hospital, like being able to help take a load off of doctors like Doctor Crane when I can. A lot of his patients come through the sleep clinic.”

“That’s fair,” Clark said. “We certainly appreciate how well y’took care of Dicky.”

The two young men smiled at each other, a bit sappily. “It’s my pleasure,” Wally said.

The next week was spent preparing for vacation. “So what should I pack?” Wally asked, clicking on his blinker as he headed through town.

“Just casual stuff, maybe one or two nicer outfits in case we go to dinner in town at the fancy place. Swimsuit. Hiking gear.” Dick yawned, with a sound vaguely reminiscent of a lion’s roar. “You know, that sort of thing.”

Wally nodded, carefully making a left turn and continuing towards home. “Right. What’s the weather gonna be like?”

“Mmmm little bit cooler than it is here. So you’ll probably want a light jacket for in the mornings.”

“Okay. That’s doable.” He glanced at Dick. “How’re you feeling?”

The question earned a shrug. “I feel fine. The sleeping pills are helping so everything’s recalibrating I think. By the time we leave I should be just fine.” He kissed Wally’s cheek as he shut off the car. Then he grinned. “I promise not to fall asleep directly after sex again.”

All Wally could do was laugh as he blushed. “You are 13 I swear!”

“Nah, just your boyfriend.”

“Right. Because that totally correlates.” Taking his keys, Wally got out and headed to the trunk to start unloading some things, including a few things for the trip. “Being my boyfriend somehow downgraded your sense of humor.”

“Hey, I just call it like I see it, babe!” Dicky was holding the bag of dry cleaning, as well as the bags of freshly laundered scrubs Wally had just picked up. 

“Uh huh.” Hefting up a paper sack of groceries, Wally led the way up to his apartment, still chuckling to himself as he unlocked the door and let them in. The place was sorta small, but clean and homey, undeniably Wally’s. There were pictures of his family on the wall, mostly big occasions like his or Iris’ graduations, their parents’ vow renewal, but a few candid moments from everyday occasions, like their mom stirring something on the stove, curlers just peeking out from under a silk bonnet as she made a face at the person behind the camera. There was a clearly well loved couch, with a knit throw that Wally had wrapped Dicky up in a time or two to carry him to bed. The walls were a pale blue that leaned into gray, which might have seemed cold if not for the quality of light that came in from outside, particularly in the afternoons. Dick loved it.

“Alright,” Wally said, sighing. “Let’s get all this put away so that I can pack yeah?” About twenty minutes later, Dick was sprawled across Wally’s bed, voting on the things Wally wanted to pack.

“Ew no, the color makes you look sick,” Dicky said to a particular tshirt. “Like, really sick.”

“Mom loves this on me!”

“Well either she’s lying or she’s slightly colorblind. Next.”

And so it went for the next hour, Wally holding up options, Dicky nixing some and agreeing to others (“You should bring the speedo.” “Ew no gross.” “Suppose you  _ could _ swim naked…” “RICHARD!”) until Wally had a suitable amount of clothes for their two week trip. “Well I’ll need to buy some things, including a new swimsuit—“ He paused there to glare at Dicky who smiled innocently “— but mostly it seems to be okay.”

“It’s all good,” Dick said reassuringly. “You always worry so much about your clothes. You look wonderful.”

“I look like shit next to your designer duds,” Wally said. “Like seriously.”

Dicky frowned. “What? No you don’t. You look fantastic, babe. Truly fa-mazing.” He winced at that and Wally laughed.

“Famazing?”

“My brain couldn’t decide between “fantastic” and “amazing” fast enough so it shoved them together.” When that just made Wally laugh harder, Dick began to sulk a bit, a la Damian, until Wally pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

“You’re famazing, you know that?” Dicky just groaned and hid his face in Wally’s shoulder.

On Thursday, before leaving for vacation with Wally on Saturday, Dicky decided it was a good opportunity to spend some time with Damian. Having cleared picking him up from school early with Bruce, Dicky settled on taking his car since Diana would, of course, be tagging along. He stopped after pulling out of the garage to put the top down, and then headed off. It was a nice car, a Mercedes cabriolet with leather interior and heated seats and all the technology one could reasonably dream of, but Dicky still didn’t much like driving it. He preferred his bike, the feeling of his body leaning into the curves, of his helmet insulating him from the world. The car was less personal, but he and Wally had already agreed they’d be taking it on the trip instead of Wally’s. Taking it out today was a good chance to make sure it didn’t need any last minute fine tuning by Alfred.

Damian was waiting for him outside the school when he pulled up, looking antsy as Diana tried to calm him. When Dick pulled to a stop, his younger brother was immediately dashing to the car, his cousin laughing as she followed behind.

“He’s very eager to go,” she said as she slid into the back seat. Normally, she’d have made Damian sit in the back, but this was his special day with Dick and she hated the thought of interfering more than she already did by having to tag along.

“I believe I was promised a movie and the arcade,” Damian said by way of justification.

“Yes. And incredibly unhealthy junk food.”

“Just this once I will indulge,” Damian said stoically.

Dick snorted and, after checking that everyone was buckled, pulled out and headed for the mall. “So. Food first, or movie?”

“Food. It’s my lunch period in about ten minutes so I’m hungry.”

“You got it, baby bat.” He glanced at Damian from the corner of his eye, expecting to see a scowl reflected in the window, but instead found a small, content smile. That made Dick happy. Far too often, Damian was much too serious for a boy his age. To see him smile, even in a private moment, was wonderful. The trio was quiet as they headed to the mall, just letting the wind blow through their hair a little bit. Traffic around the mall was surprisingly light for the lunch hour but Dicky wasn’t complaining as he scootched into the lot and found a great spot, putting the roof back up before shutting off the car. “There we go. Now we won’t come back to ruined interiors if it rains.”

Inside, they headed directly for the food court, Damian settling on the burrito place and building a truly humongous burrito that he would never finish and a side of chips and guac. Dicky smiled at that and ordered his standard order of tacos and chips and salsa, while Diana ordered a very hearty salad. “I have a date with Lois later,” she said. “Her choice. Which means we’re probably eating at the bar or some other greasy joint. I’m all for indulging occasionally but I can only handle so much in one day.”

“Fair enough,” Dick said, shrugging. “Wally and I usually just order pizza.”

“West cares for you greatly,” Damian observed. “Gordon told me how he brings you food at work on his off days even if it means waking up early.”

Dicky felt his ears turn bright red. “Ohhhh as soon as she gets a boyfriend….”

Diana smiled. “Your sister loves you. Let her.”

They finished eating lunch, Damian’s leftovers tucked into Diana’s satchel, and headed for the movie theater. “Alright,” Dicky said. “What shall we see?”

Damian pointed at a title. “That.”

“You sure?”

A sharp nod was the answer and Dick went and bought the tickets before motioning for the other two to follow him to the concession stand for popcorn. Treats in hand — Diana had decided to splurge on some chocolate raisins, and Damian had given some puppy dog eyes until Dick bought him Skittles and M&Ms — they headed into the theater just in time to take their seats and watch the previews. Damian plopped in the middle of the two adults, popcorn in his lap for them to all share as he munched his m&ms. When the movie started, he was totally tuned into it, although he would deny it to anyone else if Dicky mentioned it. Damian liked Disney movies, but only in private and generally only if he knew none of their siblings would find out. They were “frivolous and juvenile,” he said, but deep down he really was just a kid. At the climax of the film, his hand found Dicky’s and held on tightly, clearly without him really noticing. The older boy smiled and gave a reassuring squeeze as the hero managed to save the day. 

When all was said and done, the trio made their way out of the theater, blinking at the bright afternoon sun streaming in through the mall’s glass walls. “God, it’s like they  _ want _ to make their patrons go blind,” Dick grumbled.

“It seems like an unsustainable business model,” Damian said, hastily shoving sunglasses on. He looked up at Dicky, not that “up” was very far anymore. “Arcade now, yes?”

Laughing, Dicky nodded. “Arcade now. Race you!” He took off, grinning.

“GRAYSON!” Damian growled as he took off after him. Diana just shook her head and followed them.

The arcade was fairly empty, most of the area schools not yet out for the day and most adults having had to return to work or other things. That was a boon to the Wayne boys, who headed straight to their favorite game and started playing. Diana, bracing her hip against a nearby pinball machine, kept a careful watch over the whole place. It was quiet and fairly safe, but she tried not to let her guard down too often anymore.

As they played, more kids and teens began to slowly filter in but they paid little attention to them, focused on their round of DDR. “Come on, Dames, you can do better than that,” Dicky taunted as Damian hit a small streak of “Okays”.

Damian glowered, doubling his efforts. “You are one to talk Grayson.”

The song ended then and Dicky pointed to his almost perfect score, and the breakdown showing only one “Okay” the entire round. “You were saying?”

With a huff, Damian took his tickets and decided it was time to hit up the skeeball machines. Dicky joined him, fully expecting to get his ass handed to him, which he did. He ruffled Damian’s hair after collecting their tickets and glanced at the time. “We should probably consider heading home soon.”

Damian nodded gravely. “I have homework I must complete for tomorrow.”

“Alright. Then off we go to the prize counter.” They fed their tickets into the counter and Dicky handed his receipt over to Damian. “Here. I won’t use them really. Just let me use five to get Wally one of those holo-rings.”

“Of course.” They quickly got the ring Dick wanted, and then Damian’s prize of a water bottle with his favorite superhero on it before heading to the car and onward to home.


	6. Chapter 6

The car sailed along the scenic route, Dicky behind the wheel as he and Wally headed up to Vermont. They’d enjoyed a night in New York City, seeing a show and hitting some tourist sights just for the fun of it, but now they were on to the main part of their vacation. Dicky had the top down and an arm on the door as he drove, grinning. Next to him, Wally kept an eye on the map and made the occasional joke about being a 1950s broad who needed to cover their hair with a scarf to be driving like this.

“Mom did seriously try to give me one when she heard it was a convertible,” he said. “Was worried I’d catch a cold.”

Dicky chuckled. “Nah, you’ll be fine.” He yawned then, loudly, and shook his head.

“Aren’t those sleeping pills doing anything for you at all?” Wally asked.

“Yeah of course! I’m actually sleeping every night now. Just didn’t quite make it to the end of my last sleep cycle today I think, but I’m fine.” He gave a reassuring smile and Wally relaxed some, smiling back softly. 

They made great time, reaching town right around dinner time after having grabbed a late lunch in New York. “We’ve still got about an hour’s drive,” Dicky said. “If you wanna stop for dinner now or just cook when we get there?”

“Let’s cook when we get there,” Wally said. “The groceries really can’t make it a whole lot longer.”

“You got it.” Dicky kept on, smiling at the way the town bustled in the early evening.

“So….this place is called Woodstock,” Wally said. “Does that mean like the festival?”

Dicky shook his head. “Woodstock actually took place in Bethel, New York, northwest of New York City. We can go if you want, on the way back.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

About three quarters of the way up to the cabin, cell service cut out. Wally sighed. “Guess I won’t be calling Mom or Iris anytime soon.”

“We have wifi in the cabin, so you should be able to use that to call them.”

“How do you get wifi way out here?”

Dicky shrugged. “Satellite internet I think? But also, Bruce has literally no concept of “too expensive” it seems so he’ll pay whatever it takes to make vacation bearable with all of us.”

That earned a laugh. “Oh I bet he will.”

As they pulled into the drive a few minutes later, Wally spluttered. “You said “cabin” babe.”

“This is a cabin,” Dicky said, sounding confused. “A big one, but it’s a cabin.”

“I’m pretty sure this is actually more like a lodge. How many bedrooms are in this thing?!”

Dicky thought. “The master, my room, J’s room, Tim and Damian’s room, Babs and Steph’s room, Cass’s room, two servants rooms? 8? And 5 bathrooms? Plus a half bath.”

Wally blinked. “Yeah. This is a lodge. Or a chalet. Not a cabin.” He got out before Dicky could say anything else, sitting there stunned, and then threw the map at him. “C’mon help me unload.”

It was so easy over the next two weeks to fall into a pattern. In the mornings, they woke up a little after 7 and made breakfast, usually heavy on eggs and fruit, then went for a walk through the misty woods around the cabin (“lodge” Wally insisted). Then, they did any number of things from swimming to driving into town to just lazing about the house, watching movies and being together. In the afternoons, they went on hikes that led them to spectacular views of the forest and a couple of streams in the area. On a day when it was absolutely pouring rain, they hit the movie theater in town for a sci-fi horror movie marathon. For ten bucks apiece, they snagged seats in the theater for the day, as many movies as they could stand, with discounted snacks and free refills of the truly massive fountain drink they’d bought. “This is a  _ small _ ?” Wally said incredulously. The girl behind the counter had nodded brightly and held up the next size up which Wally was certain was bigger than Dick’s head. 

They snagged good seats, a perk of being very early, and settled in to watch the classics. _It Came From Outer Space,_ _The Fly_ , even a showing of _Alien_ , although it was the newest of the films they showed, most of them from the 50s, 60s and 80s.

As they left, walking down the now wet street under stars, Dicky stuck his hands in his pockets. “Ya know, I could go for some more movies if I’m honest. You know what’s a true classic?  _ Alien vs Predator _ .”

Wally was silent a moment and then “...Baby that movie is atrocious.”

“What? No! It’s fantastic I love it!”

“Well I hate to break it to you, you love a shitty film,” Wally said, laughing. 

“No!” They were still laughing uproariously as they argued their way right into the car and back to the cabin.

Their next to last day, Dicky tossed Wally’s swim trunks in his face while he was sleeping. “Come on. We’re going swimming.”

Wally groaned and curled tighter into the blankets. “But it’s coooooold,” he whined.

“Trust me. We won’t be cold.” 

Dicky succeeded in rousing Wally from bed and into his swimwear, then off into the woods, wrapped up in warm fluffy robes. They stuck to a well worn cobbled path that would probably be treacherous in the snow and ice, or after rain, but for the day it was just pretty. After a few minutes, the path opened up into a clearing, revealing a natural hot spring. “Oh wow!”

“See, told you,” Dicky said. “We won’t be cold.”

Not even deigning to answer, Wally shed his robe and rushed in, sighing in relaxed relief. Dicky followed, laughing. They sank into the water, which steamed faintly in the chilly morning sunshine, and curled up on a natural stone bench in the deepest part of the pool, very content.

“This is amazing,” Wally murmured. “Thank you for showing me.”

“You’re welcome, baby. Thought it would be a nice last surprise.”

“It really is.” Wally scootched a little closer, pressing a kiss to Dicky’s lips. “Thank you.”

Dicky blushed slightly. “For what? I’m the one who should be thanking you. You came on vacation with me and you are quite literally the most attentive boyfriend I have ever had.”

“Yes, well, you deserve nice things,” Wally murmured. “And I’m pretty sure your dads agree.” That earned him a kiss then, and he playfully tugged Dicky into his lap, holding him close. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” Any further conversation was cut off by wandering hands and mouths, both young men focused on each other for a bit. Eventually, though, Dicky started shivering and Wally hustled him out of the water and back into his robe so they could hurry back to the house. And if he maybe took advantage of the moment Dicky took off his swimsuit, well...that was their little secret wasn’t it?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes the car accident. Reader be aware.

Going home was probably the worst thing ever. They left early in the morning after having spent the day before tidying up so that the maid, a local employed by Alfred to care for the place between visits, would have less work, and got on the road back to Gotham much sooner than they would have liked. They took a different route going home than they had coming up, including a detour to the site of the Woodstock festival as they passed through New York. Wally was thoroughly unimpressed. “I was hoping there’d be more of a memorial or something,” he said as they got back in the car. “That was just a bunch of fields.”

Dicky chuckled. “The owners of the place hated how famous it was for a long time. Only the most recent owners have started to capitalize on it.”

“Laaaaame.”

As they pulled back out onto the highway, Dicky fought back a powerful yawn, shaking his head a little. “I really should have gotten coffee at breakfast,” he said.

Wally nodded. “We can pull over somewhere?” he suggested. “Get you something.”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

And he was. For a while. An hour or so later saw him fighting off long, slow blinks and jerking his head back up. “Babe, pull over,” Wally said, voice firm.

Dicky did as he was told, pulling off onto the shoulder and sitting back in defeat. “I’m exhausted all of a sudden, Walls,” he said, not looking at him. “I’m not safe to drive.” His voice shook even though he was desperately fighting to control it.

“Dicky, it’s okay. Just switch seats with me and you can rest okay? I don’t mind driving.” He didn’t say it, but Wally was, internally, quite worried. Dicky’s sleep troubles were causing him all sorts of misery and if they didn’t figure out how to handle them better soon, other health problems would start to emerge. Lack of restful sleep caused the body to start breaking down, while too much sleep in general could lead to vitamin deficiencies, increased depression and more. None of it was something Wally wanted for Dicky. Wally carefully took Dicky’s hand, surreptitiously taking a pulse. A bit uneven, but on the slow side, picking back up to normal. “It’s gonna be fine alright? You just rest, babe.”

With a small nod, Dicky carefully got out and switched places with Wally, who had to adjust the seat for his longer frame before setting off. It wasn’t long before Dicky was fast asleep. His head lolled to the side a bit, a tiny sliver of drool snaking from the corner of his mouth. Wally was pretty sure he was in love. 

Dick woke up as they stopped for lunch, stretching with a slight yawn. “Any better?” Wally asked.

The answer was a shrug. “A bit I suppose. Why can’t my sleep at night be that restful?”

“Maybe we should look into getting you some fancy bed that simulates car rides.”

“Might be worth a shot…”

Lunch was quiet, Dicky not entirely awake yet and Wally keeping an eye on him. They’d pulled off into a small town and plopped their butts into a table at the diner. An hour later saw them pleasantly full on greasy cheeseburgers and fries, plus some milkshakes and pie. Dicky planted himself in the passenger seat, more awake after the nap and some coffee but still not trusting himself to drive. “Alright. Off we go,” Wally said. The rest of the drive went by far quicker than either of them wanted and by the time they were wanting dinner they were making their way back into Gotham. Wally sighed as he pulled into the empty spot next to his car in the apartment complex. 

“I already wish we could go back,” he said, leaning back against the seat and looking over at Dicky.

“You and me both, hun,” Dicky said. “But alas. Back to work we must go.”

“Back to work indeed,” Wally said. “Stay for dinner?”

“Of course.”

They carefully lugged Wally’s suitcase and cooler, now empty of groceries and drinks, into the building and settled them out of the way. “Chinese?” Dicky suggested.

“Nah. Let’s get Japanese. That’s better around here than the Chinese.”

“Fair enough.”

At the end of the evening, full of tasty sushi rolls and miso soup, Dicky dropped a kiss on Wally’s lips before heading home, eager to crawl into bed and sleep soundly.

The drive from Wally’s apartment to the manor had never felt quite so long as it did right now, Dicky thought. He was positively crawling along and couldn’t figure out why things were so backed up.

And then he came across the wreck.

Police were directing traffic around the destroyed cars as ambulance and rescue truck lights flashed, and paramedics were working carefully over a woman who seemed to be stable, if very dazed. The flow of traffic came to a standstill as the paramedics loaded the woman onto a gurney and wheeled her into an ambulance, siren turning on as warning that they would soon pull out. As they moved, Dicky caught sight of a form covered with a white sheet and paled. It had been a little while but Dicky said a small prayer for the departed spirit and did his best to refocus on the road. Which was…..surprisingly difficult. As he finally made it around the wreck, his vision blurred some and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear it and mostly succeeding. But they felt scratchy and it was hard to keep them open.

“Should call Bruce…” he mumbled. He didn’t though.

Slowly, Dicky wound his way out of town towards the manor, grateful that it was not rush hour as he came through. He felt like he had to be drifting and crawling along but the speedometer promised him that he was hovering at about the speed limit, and he was….straight enough.

Dicky sighed with relief as he hit the manor drive, slowing down for the gates to open and then, unintentionally hitting the accelerator a little too hard as he made it through, head nodding in exhaustion. He was just wanted to be in his bed.

It was fine until he saw the deer.

Immediately he threw his foot on the brake and yanked the wheel sideways. The car skidded sideways, towards the tree line, and Dicky did his best to relax, instinct kicking in even in his exhausted state to try and protect him. He slammed into the tree hard, the impact flinging him into the center console and against the seatbelt, feeling his collarbone crack right before his head slammed hard into the frame of the car before the side airbags could deploy. He groaned, feeling even worse as the airbag flung him sideways again. Managing to collect himself enough to know he needed help, Dicky reached for the emergency alarm button on his key fob. His arm felt so weak as he managed to push it, the immediate blaring of the alarm making the pain in his head intensify. “Dad….” he groaned to himself. “Forgive me….” 

A small part of him, a part of him that sounded an awful lot like Wally, said he needed to stay awake. He had head trauma and potentially a neck injury but he was just...so tired. Sleep seemed so appealing and the other part of his brain said a few moments resting his eyes couldn’t possibly hurt. Help was on the way. It had to be. Reassured by that thought, he allowed himself to doze off, everything fading to black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very medical heavy, including discussion of brain trauma

Wally flung the swinging doors open as he raced through the hospital from department to department. Tim had reassured him that he could take his time, park in a decent spot, but he still needed to be there. Some part of him was screaming that he needed to be there  _ now _ . 

Finally, though, he’d made it to the emergency room and started asking coworkers where he could find either Dicky or his family, only to be hailed by Stephanie, who looked frazzled and anxious.

“He’s in bay 4,” she said, arms wrapped tight around herself. Wally distantly noticed she was wearing thin pajamas and nothing over them and draped his jacket around her shoulders. She pulled it closer and cleared her throat. “Dad insisted we leave a spot in there for you, so it’s him and Tim and Babs.”

“Thank you,” Wally said. He handed her his id badge. “Get you and the others something to eat and drink, just have them put it on my account.” He took a deep breath. “Something tells me we’re gonna need it.”

With a nod, Steph went back to Damian, Cass and the others, who Wally could just see in the waiting area clumped together, Damian curled into Jason’s lap with Cass tucked under his arm, Alfred the most informal looking Wally was sure he’d ever seen or would see. Clark stood next to them, on the phone, though to who was unclear. Wally tore his gaze away and focused on bay 4, taking a deep breath before walking over and slipping through the curtains.

He wished any other sight greeted him than this one. Dicky, pale and fragile looking, tucked in the bed with monitors beeping away. His face was covered in tiny scratches and cuts, a nasty cut over his left eye, which was rapidly darkening with a nasty bruise. A sling held his left arm steady, but the lack of splint told Wally it was his collarbone and not the arm itself. 

A hand fell on his shoulder. “Wally,” Bruce said gently. “Take a seat alright?”

All Wally could do was nod mutely and let the older man guide him into a seat, eyes locked on Dicky. “What— what happened?” he finally managed. 

“He made it to the manor drive,” Bruce said. “And then skidded off the pavement and hit a tree. We suspect he was trying to avoid a deer.”

“He was...he was fine two hours ago when he left my place.” Wally’s voice was faint, a small trace of fear slipping in.

Bruce squeezed his shoulder. “And he’ll pull through this just fine,” he said firmly. “Dick’s a fighter. He won’t give up.” Wally nodded and settled a little, eyes glued to Dicky as they waited.

Remarkably, Dicky stirred with a groan, blinking against the fluorescent lights. “Dad…”

“Dick,” Bruce said gently. He stepped closer so that Dicky wouldn’t try to turn his head against the neck brace. “We’re right here, Dick. You’re safe. In the hospital.”

“Wally?”

“I’m here, babe.” Wally stepped to the other side of the bed. “I’m right here.”

“‘M sorry,” Dicky mumbled, a few tears escaping his bruised eye. “Please don’ be disappointed…”

“Baby we’re not, I promise,” Wally said sincerely.

“We’re scared,” Bruce said honestly. “But we’re not disappointed. It was a car accident, Dicky, and one that you didn’t have much control over.”

Dick sniffled. “Was...so tired. Wanted….to get home, not be a bother.” He closed his eyes. “ ‘m such a distraction...and a failure….”

“No,” Bruce said. His voice brooked no argument, firm and very no nonsense, the kind of tone that made people stop and listen on instinct due to sheer authority. Wally wondered if this was what Dicky called his “Batman” voice. “You are a loved son, brother and boyfriend, who we want to be here for because we love you and will give up anything to make sure you are healthy, happy, and safe. I promised all those years ago when I adopted you that I would be here for you in every way necessary and possible, that I would love and care for you until the day I draw my last breath, and that means sleepless nights in the hospital when you need me here, time away from work when you have an event where my presence would make you feel loved and cared for, even if you don’t need me there. This is what being a parent is, and you would have to do some terrible things for me to ever be disappointed in you.”

“Dad, I’m scared,” Dicky said softly. He was crying openly now, his breathing slightly hitched and off.

Bruce ever so gently rubbed his upper arm. “I know.” His voice had softened. “But we’re going to get you through this.”

Someone cleared their throat and everyone turned to see the doctor at the edge of the bay. “We’re ready to take Richard to the CT and MRI scans,” she said gently. “We’ll likely be admitting him from there so if you all would like to collect the rest of the family, I’m sure Mr. West here can show you all where you’ll be waiting from here.” She looked at Wally. “Waiting room B,” she said evenly, as she motioned the nurses in to help wheel Dicky off to his tests.

Bruce looked at him as he was handed a clipboard of admissions paperwork. “What’s waiting room B?” he asked.

Wally swallowed. “ICU.”

“Not surprising. I’ll get the paperwork filled out, you get the others. We’re in for a long night.”

As they were sitting in the waiting room outside the ICU for news, Wally looked over at Tim. “That tone bruce used in the ER with Dicky,” he said. “That was the “Batman” voice wasn’t it?”

Tim nodded. “It was.”

“Why is it the “Batman” voice?”

“Depends on who you ask. If you ask Dick and Babs, they were playing superheroes one night and Bruce was wearing a shirt with bats on it and so they said he was Batman. If you ask Bruce, it’s because they teased him for being up late most nights either at events and parties or working with foreign investors and offices, to the point he was basically nocturnal. If you ask….if you ask Bruce’s ex wife Talia, it’s because he is scared of bats and thus took one on as a sort of alternate persona to help him be strong for the board room. Personally, I believe the superheroes story more. Bruce used to be a lot more goofy than he is..”

Wally mulled that over as he sipped his coffee. “I like the name though,” he finally said. “Suits him.”

Tim nodded. “It does. He has a terrifying tendency to show up out of nowhere like a bat swooping in, and he’s good at hide and go seek, like he blends into the shadows.”

Wally couldn’t help but laugh a little.

Dicky drifted in and out of consciousness as the tests were run, especially when he was in the machines themselves, although the MRI was kind of loud. He just wanted to rest. Everything hurt and he wanted to be back in his bed at home where he could sleep it off. That wasn’t going to happen though, he knew. He’d banged himself up pretty good.

Indeed, when he was out of the tests, he was wheeled to the ICU and shifted out of the temporary gurney and into a real bed. Bruce, Babs and Wally came in a few minutes later, looking tired but the coffee in Babs’ hand indicated they’d done their best to power through.

“Hi,” Dicky said groggily. He blinked, his vision a little blurry.

“Hey,” Wally said gently. He took Dicky’s good hand. “Glad to see you awake.”

“Ga’ me summin,” Dicky mumbled. “Hur’s, Wall.”

“I know baby I know. But we gotta see what the doctor says before we do anything else.”

They had to wait for the doctor for close to two hours before she came in with another doctor, one Wally recognized from the coma ward.   
“This is Dr. Fries,” Dr. Thompson said. “He’s one of the trauma and terminal illness neurologists.”

“I’m sorry to meet under such circumstances,” Fries said, face sympathetic. “We’ve looked over Richard’s scans and things are slightly more serious than we hoped.”

Wally closed his eyes and heard Bruce take in a deep breath. “Alright. What’s wrong?”

“Richard has some swelling in the brain,” Dr. Fries said. “Specifically a swollen cerebellum in particular, which is putting pressure on some other parts of the brain like the occipital and down to the hypothalamus, but more concerningly, there is some pressure on your brain stem from swelling caused by the crash. We’d like to try an induced coma to help ease the strain on his brain while we treat the swelling. Together, we’re fairly certain he’ll be just fine.”

Bruce looked to Wally. “This is your field. What do you think?”

Wally swallowed. “Well, just a nurse practitioner here, but I’ve seen some similar cases come through the ward when they didn’t wake up as soon as hoped. But they tended to be the patients whose families had waited to make the decision and it caused….significant issues because the swelling was too slow to go down.”

“I see. So you think we should go for it?” Bruce asked, clearly evaluating.

“I do,” Wally said evenly. 

Bruce nodded. “Then we’ll do it. What happens now?”

The answer to that question, it turned out, was hooking Dick up to a second iv line into which high level sedatives would be slowly be introduced at increasing levels until he was under. Wally held his hand and gently rubbed circles with his thumb, soothing Dicky as best he could for the short time he was awake. He didn’t leave when Dicky dozed off, and stayed put over the course of the day as he sank further and further into the coma until finally he was down to the bare minimum bodily functions. 

It was everything Wally could do to keep the sheer terror of what might happen at bay. 

Soon after Dicky was fully comatose, Babs came in and sat down next to Wally. “He looks...peaceful,” she murmured. “Most peaceful I’ve seen him in months.”

“Was he...always so anxious?”

Babs shook her head, looking sad. “No. Always a little high strung, a bit prone to worry. But not like this. And then his sleep troubles….made everything way worse and we’ve all been worried sick.”

Wally nodded. “He got worse while we were gone. Not noticeably. But when we were driving home he started falling asleep at the wheel. I shouldn’t -- I shouldn’t have let him drive himself home.”

“You couldn’t have predicted this, Wally.” Babs’ voice was empathetic. “I bet he seemed fine when he left your place. That’s not your fault. Dicky’s really good at making everything seem okay, and acting independent. He’s a good planner, and a leader. He’s going to make an amazing CEO when Bruce steps down. But he has to learn how to...how to let us in to help more before that happens because it’s a lot of weight. There’s a reason Bruce wanted a way to shift some of his duties off to us. If he doesn’t, I don’t want to imagine what might happen. He’s terrified of disappointing Bruce, of ruining the company and the family, but in all truth, he’ll end up working himself to death and-- oh God.” Her voice broke then. “The idiot.”

Wally wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. “He’s gonna be okay,” he said softly. “He’s gonna be okay and then we can help him get better about that.” 

“You’re good for him,” she said. “Really good for him. He’s been happier with you these past few months than I have ever seen him.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Babs managed a smile. “Seriously happy.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, Wally. Anytime. You’re family now. Truly.”

That made Wally chuckle. “An interesting family to be a part of for sure.”

“Hey, at least you know we’re never boring.”

  
  


Dicky felt like he was in and out of things. When he registered things, he wished he could respond. Hearing his family talk, hearing Wally, was like a sliver of light coming in through a cracked door. They sounded sad, and Dicky just wanted to make them feel better.

More often than not though, he was deep in the recesses of his own brain. It was a lot like being asleep, this coma. Dreams played themselves out for him, over and over and over in some cases. He revisited the nightmare that had finally pushed Bruce to make Dicky see Dr. Crane, but multiple visits made the dream begin to morph, warp in new ways. Different family members took Bruce’s place, angry over different mistakes. The manor took on a variety of states of disrepair. It didn’t make sense.

It also didn’t make sense that he wasn’t waking up.

“The swelling has gone down, so we’re going to gradually decrease the sedatives and he should wake up shortly thereafter,” Dr. Fries said. “It’s a remarkable recovery.”

“That’s a relief,” Wally said.

Dicky didn’t have a sense of time, but he could tell that things were going horribly wrong. The heaviness that seemed to be over everything, that kept him from doing much more than listening or dreaming, never seemed to shift. It had settled in gradually, but now...now it was supposed to be gradually lifting and it wasn’t. He was just...stuck here.

If he could have, he might have screamed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the revelation of medical malpractice, and "mad science" in the form of non-consensual medical drug testing.

It felt like an eternity.

That was all Wally could think as he sat next to Dicky’s bed in the coma ward after his shift. It felt like an eternity since he had seen his boyfriend smile, or heard him laugh, or heard the cute little snore he got when he had contorted himself into a funny position in his sleep.

And he wasn’t sure how things had ended up like this, really. One minute, they’d been happily returning from vacation and the next Dicky was on death’s door, and then he was going to be okay except for never waking up.

“Knock knock,” a soft voice said. Wally looked up to see Caitlin at the door.

“Hey,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be headed home?”

“Thought I might come keep you company for a while. How’s he looking?”

“Still no signs of waking. Brain activity is holding steady, though, so he’s in there. He’s still here.”

Caitlin pulled a chair over and sat down next to him. “He’ll come back to you,” she said softly. “He’ll be okay.”

Wally couldn’t hold back a wet chuckle. “I keep hoping he’ll just. Open his eyes, smile at me. Like nothing ever happened. Hell, I’d take him not remembering me at all if he would just wake up.”

“You love him.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation.

“Yeah. Love him a lot.” Wally sniffled. “Like want him to meet Mom and Dad, maybe ask him to marry me a lot.”

Caitlin nodded knowingly. “It’s funny how quickly someone can become so important to us.”

Wally leaned his head on her shoulder and just took comfort in having a friend with him. It was nice, having someone there to try and soothe the worry and fretting and pain. There was no way anyone could have fixed it entirely, but Caitlin’s steady presence made it bearable, and when she left, Wally felt the hole in his heart open back up the little bit it had closed while she was there. It felt like it opened up even further when he had to leave a bit later. But he still had work, and that meant going home and cleaning up and eating before going back to sit with Dick some more, even if he wasn’t going to get very good sleep on the pitiful reclining chair.

The routine was pretty settled after a month or two of it. Wally would shower and change clothes at home, then return to the hospital and sleep next to Dick’s bed for a few hours. When it was time for his shift, he would reluctantly drag himself away from the coma ward to the sleep clinic, and grin and bear it through check in before coming back to do rounds. Recently, he’d also been taking a rotation in the minor emergency clinic, and he lived for those shifts. They were busy enough to keep his mind off of Dicky, and keep his emotions at bay, give him space to breathe. And he desperately needed that.

At the start of month three, Dr. Crane stopped by while Wally was sitting with Dicky. “How is he?” Crane asked.

Wally shrugged. “Same as he has been, Doc. I wish I knew something that would help.”

Crane gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “He’s got some of the best doctors in the world looking after him. He’ll be fine eventually.”

“I hope so.” Wally sighed. “How have things been in private practice lately?”

“Oh, quiet, mostly. Several of my patients have improved enough to be less regular visits, and a few have moved away, so I’m not as busy as I would like to be, but that’s just the ebb and flow of things.” He smiled warmly. “Things will soon get too busy I imagine.”

Wally chuckled. “Seems that’s how life is.” He stretched. “I’m going to take a walk to the vending machine. Want anything?”

“Oh no, thanks, I’m fine. I’m going to sit with Dick a moment, though.”

“Go ahead. He really respects you, so I’m sure he’d be glad to hear it when he wakes up.” With a smile, Wally left Crane with Dicky and went for a slow walk to the vending machines.

Steph walked like a woman on a mission or out to sue as she headed for Dicky’s room. After the first visit or two to the hospital, where nurses and orderlies had stopped her multiple times to make sure she knew where she was going, and that she was there for a specific someone, she had learned to use her “I am important get out of my way” walk when heading for Dicky’s room. The walk took her past the sleep clinic, and she smiled as Harleen Quinzel-Isley waved at her eagerly. It was a nice bright spot as she headed for one of the saddest wings of the hospital.

Things got distinctly quieter as she headed into the long-term wards. Fewer people, more routine. It was oddly soothing, if you got over the clinical, depressing air of serious illness. She stopped at the nurse’s desk at the head of the ward to say hello and drop off a box of treats that Alfred had sent along with her that morning, accompanied by a stern warning not to let anyone else eat them, a true task in her office as most of her personal staff and the other executives had gotten more than a little addicted to Alfred’s baking. But she managed to hide the box and deliver it safely, which the nurses were grateful for. 

“More things to expand my waistline?” Wally asked teasingly.

Steph laughed. “Treats for everyone, Wally.”

“I see. Coming to sit with us for a while?”   
She nodded. “Taking a little break?”

“Yeah, gonna get a soda. Want anything?”

“I’m good. I’ll meet you back in Dick’s room.”

With a nod from Wally, the two separated, Wally heading for the vending machines, and Stephanie continuing on to Dicky’s room. The ward was eerily quiet and sort of gave her chills, every time. Cass said it was just cold, but Stephanie personally found the place creepy, rather like a castle full of people under an enchantment.

She turned into Dicky’s room, and stopped dead in her tracks.

A man she didn’t know, but who was dressed like a doctor, was bent over the bed slightly, injecting something straight into Dicky’s IV line. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Stephanie might have winced at how loud her voice was in that moment but her terror for her brother outweighed all that. Every member of the family was well aware of what was being done for Dicky, and as far as she knew, his doctors weren’t giving any medication via the injection port.

There was a lot of noise as the nurses raced down the ward to her, Wally trailing a ways behind.

“Dr. Crane,” the head nurse said, voice carefully controlled. “Might I ask what you’re doing with that patient?”

Dr. Crane was clearly trying to formulate some sort of response or excuse, with nothing coming to him, prompting Stephanie to storm over and rip the syringe from his hand. “What’s in this?” she demanded.

“I-- I --”

“”I, I,”” she mocked angrily. “Spit it the fuck out. What did you give my brother?”

Crane deflated, looking cowed, which gave Steph a perverse sense of pleasure. All those boardroom yelling sessions were paying off. “It’s the coma sedative,” Crane said softly. “I...I needed him to stay asleep…”

“I trusted you,” Wally said coldly, pushing through his colleagues. “I can’t believe you. Someone get security and call the police. This is assault and endangerment.” A nurse rushed off to do just that, while another ran off for Dr. Fries. Crane just looked defeated and sat down heavily in one of the bedside chairs. Stephanie was calling everyone, and telling them to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

She and Wally both settled in to wait, with Bruce arriving first, as security was collecting Dr. Crane to hold him until police arrived. Before he could even begin to ask what had happened, Clark arrived, Lois Lane in tow. “Wow, did you two fly here?” Steph asked, genuinely surprised.

“In the area, what happened?” Clark asked, extremely concerned.

“The good doctor here was slipping Dicky the coma sedatives on the sly to keep him under.”

Bruce rounded on Dr. Crane, face a terrifyingly blank mask. “What did you do to my son?”

“The anxiety meds were having adverse effects and reacting with the sleep meds to cause brain swelling I didn’t want anyone to know I’d been experimenting with the medications--”

“You EXPERIMENTED WITHOUT INFORMED CONSENT?!” Wally shouted. “If Bruce doesn’t take every single penny and your license, I will. You will never fucking work with patients ever again do you hear me?!”

Security yanked Crane out of the room then and Wally took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he counted to ten and back.

“Will Dicky be okay?” Lois asked, clearly concerned.

“I don’t know,” Wally said. “It’s...not normal for an induced coma to last this long so I have no clue what effects that might have. His vital signs have been showing response to strong emotional stimuli this whole time though, so there’s hope.”

“Then we wait,” Clark said, looking tired.

Over the next thirty minutes, the rest of the family arrived. The ward staff made a rare exception to the limit on visitors to allow everyone in in light of the scandal, and the entire family crammed into the room. There were people sitting on the floor, on the deep windowsill, in chairs, and on laps as they waited for Dicky to wake up.

Stephanie just hoped it would be soon. 

There were calls to legal made, and Wally dragged himself from Dicky’s side for a few minutes to speak to the Wayne Enterprises lawyers about his desire to file a malpractice suit against Dr. Crane, which Bruce was supportive of. Someone at some point ordered dinner, and a thick grilled cheese with tomato and a cup of hot soup was held under Wally’s nose until he accepted it and ate it, almost robotically. The sun set and the lights came on.

Everyone refused to leave.

It was nearing midnight, and Damian was asleep against the wall, Cass’ head in his lap. Lois and Diana were curled up on the windowsill, Tim tucked in next to them, Clark on the floor under them. Bruce was in a chair next to the bed, across from Wally and Babs. Jason and Alfred were in chairs the nurses had brought in, tucked against the wall across from the bed. Wally was the only one really awake, one of Dick’s hands held tightly in both of his. It was dark in the room, only a small evening light on to let the nurses see as they came around to do checks and see to patients. Wally was grateful for that.

“Baby, please,” he said softly. “Please wake up for me.” Gently, he leaned in and kissed Dick on the forehead, closing his eyes to stop tears as he pulled away.

“Wally?” A soft voice, one that sounded raspy from disuse and a dry throat. “Where am I?”

Opening his eyes, Wally couldn’t help himself, bursting into relieved tears as he registered that Dicky was, finally, awake.


	10. Chapter 10

The next few days were a flurry of activity and excitement and tests. Dicky was, frankly, overwhelmed with how much everyone was loving over him and not giving him any space. Wally and the nurses managed to get everyone to leave him be after a couple of days, so that for once his room was empty and quiet. He settled back into bed, which was comfortable, or at least more comfortable than trying to sit or stand up. His entire body ached when he tried to move, and felt too big, which he hadn’t felt since high school when he went through those growth spurts. And everything felt like it was moving at twice the speed of normal.

It really sucked.

Before he could start to feel sorry for himself, though, there was a soft knock at the door, and he looked over to see Wally. “Hey.”

“Hi…” The word felt so heavy and wrong in Dicky’s mouth, which Dr. Fries had warned him to expect. 

“Mind if I come in?”

“Sure.”

Wally quietly came over and took a seat next to the bed, sighing as he sank into the chair. “There we go...long shift.”

“You went to work.” Dicky felt almost surprised at that realization, not sure what exactly Wally had said, just the conclusion he drew from it. It had happened a few times since he woke up, and it felt like his head was a constantly buffering, jumpy video.

Wally nodded. “I did. Your family was in and out so I decided to give you one less person to try and follow.” He took Dick’s hand and gently rubbed the back with his thumb. “How do you feel?”

Dick frowned, trying to gather his very foggy thoughts. “Not...real? Body’s...wrong.” He paused. “I don’t feel like myself at all physically.” The only response to that one was a confused, if concerned, look from his boyfriend. “Words came wrong again?” Dick asked, afraid. Wally nodded. “Yeah. But that’s gonna be one of the things that rights itself quickly as you start getting better. So don’t give up on it, okay?”

That earned a slow nod and a soft sigh. It was frustrating, being this helpless. He couldn’t feed himself or really drink anything, and he definitely couldn’t sit up or walk alone. This would be months of therapy to recover from. It was disheartening. 

Wally’s hand in his gave a slight squeeze. “Hey, listen to me, baby. You are gonna get better so fast. Seriously, you’re gonna amaze yourself with how fast you start to bounce back. A year from now? You’ll be right as rain. And I’m gonna be there the whole way if you want me there.”

“Stay,” he said softly, sniffling. “Want you to stay.”

“Then I’ll be right here.”

“ _ Patient awoke from level 2 coma, 2 month period. Originally weighed 175 lbs, now 134. Patient reports pain with attempted movement, level 6/10; decreases to level 5/10 when sitting or laying still. Delayed comprehension and struggle to focus for extended periods of time, varied levels of aphasia, including supplying incorrect word when speaking (patterns not emerging), incorrect word order, and inability to supply words. Treatment plan: Muscle relaxers, low dose anti-seizure medication, pain medication as needed.” _

The doctor looked at Dick over the top of the file. “Seems you’ve been through hell.”

“Keep reading.”

That earned a raised eyebrow but the doctor flipped to the next page.  _ “Patient was subject to experimental drug trials sans informed consent. Psychiatrist Dr. Jonathan Crane treated patient for anxiety and related sleep dysfunction. Prescribed standard anti-anxiety medication, alongside physician’s own sleep aid. Said sleep aid was not in approved trial phase and had not been tested for potential interactions with other medications. Patient was not informed. Side effects of experimental medication included excessive sleepiness, dampening of reflexes, potential mitigation of anti-anxiety medication, potential irritation or swelling of the brain and brain lining. Patient suffered a car accident as a direct result of sleep aid side effects, leading to coma induction to treat swelling on the brain.” _

“Okay, so definitely hell.” The doctor flipped through the rest of the file with a cursory look. It was mostly documentation of Dick’s accident and coma, then his physical and occupational therapies to that point, and his very brief stint in speech therapy to help him work through the aphasia. Looking at Dick, it was hard to see just how bad it had been at the start, but a trained eye would know. He had an elegant looking cane with him, to help him walk longer distances, and he wasn’t back up to pre-accident weight quite yet, probably due to how many calories he expended in physical therapy and other exercises on top of day to day living. “So what brings you in here?”

Dick sighed. “The anti-anxiety medication is...helping. But I want to...not be reliant on it eventually. Talk therapy was helping before. I want to continue that. But I don’t want to see someone like Crane again. So my gp will prescribe the anti-anxiety medication and monitor that, you will be responsible only for the therapy. Deal?”

“Of course! Has someone given you trouble about that arrangement?”

“You’re doctor number four. My faith in people is much lower.”

That earned a nod. “Though I would love to be totally surprised, I’m not. Most of my colleagues probably would prefer you see a psychiatrist or neurologist. But given your history, I prefer you see someone you trust, and Leslie Thompson is an excellent physician so I see absolutely no problem with the arrangement. So why don’t we see if you and I mesh well hm?”

An hour later saw Dick leaving the office with a standing appointment for Friday afternoons at 4pm. It gave him a sense of hope. Five months out from waking up and he was truly starting to recover. The doctors were all predicting a few more months to full physical recovery, though they always reminded him that was an estimate and reliant on his sticking to his exercises and appointments. He did so religiously, much as he had done with his workout routine prior to his vacation and accident. And while Dr. Fries had said it could be up to ten years for the damage to be totally healed, he had predicted a year and half to two years for Dick to be functionally recovered and with few to no noticeable effects. That felt like such a long time, out of context, but Dick’s life moved so quickly, even without work, that he was pretty sure it wouldn’t feel like very long at all. 

_ Six months later… _

“In 3...2…” The producer pointed and Vicki took her cue to go.

“Good Morning, Gotham! I’m Vicki Vale. Today’s show is full of some marvelous guests who’ve received care in Gotham’s historic, award winning, pioneering Gotham University Hospital, in celebration of 150 years of excellence. Our first guest is a favorite of ours, frequent guest and sweetheart of the city, Richard “Dick” Grayson-Wayne!”

Dick smiled and raised his hand as the studio audience went wild. 

“Thank you so much for joining us, Richard.”

“Thank you for having me, and please, Vicki. We’ve known each other for years. Call me Dick or Dicky.”

Vicki smiled. “Of course. Now you’ve had quite the year, haven’t you? Really two years. Acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises, your father getting remarried, and then this horrible accident and coma. Have things settled down any?”

“They have. Kind of had to by force of nature, haha.”

“Indeed. Would you be willing to tell us some more about that force of nature?”

“It was...indescribable really? I was in that car accident due to medical malpractice, and then what my family thought would be a short stint in a coma to let my brain heal ended up being two months in GU’s coma ward. And that whole time I was moving between levels of coma. So a level 3 is the lightest and there’s reflex responses like reacting to pain, sort of like sleep paralysis on a more severe level. Level 2, which is where I was for the most part, you don’t have that. But I could hear people talking to me, I could comprehend things they said or how they felt and my body would respond, raise my heart rate, things like that, which is pretty common in level 2 coma patients. Level 1, though, is what we think of when we think about a coma. Basically a vegetative state, not responding to any stimuli at all. And I was slipping down into that state often enough that Dr. Fries, who is amazing by the way, didn’t want to try and bring me back up with stimulants.”

There was a sound of concerned interest from the audience.

“So you went through that for two months?”

Dick nodded.

“Goodness gracious. How has recovery been?”

“Well, it’s been a tough ride so far. Physically I’m back to where I was before the accident, but mentally, emotionally, I’m still recovering. But I have an amazing team of doctors, therapists, and nurses at the hospital, including Dr. Fries.”

“I understand you’re being featured as a case study in one of his upcoming publications?”

“I am. I’m something of a miracle case, apparently. I sprang back from some of the post-coma side effects quickly, and just my waking up wasn’t a given after two months. So I was more than happy to let Dr. Fries do a write up.”

Vicki smiled. “We’re so happy to see you doing well, Dick. And even happier you came to talk to us today.”

“Always happy to visit, Vicki.”

She turned to face the camera. “After this commercial break, join us to hear from other patients of Gotham University Hospital as we celebrate the hospital’s 150th anniversary. And later, Dick and the others will get a chance to give a special thank you to the doctors who cared for them, and a special announcement of what comes next for the hospital as we look forward to the next century and a half!”

The producers called the commercial then and Vicki looked to Dick, more personal now. “It really is good to see you doing better, Dicky,” she said gently. “You had us all worried.”

Dick smiled. “I appreciate the concern, Vicki. Really. I don’t know that I’d have pulled out of it without my family and everyone else rooting for me.”

“Of course. I meant it when I called you Gotham’s sweetheart. Anyway enough gabbing, go snag a bagel and relax until we need you back out here.”

“Yes ma’am.” Whistling, Dick made his way backstage, letting a crew member remove his mic pack. Vicki could be vicious when she was going after a story, but she had a human side, one that she showed to few people. Dick appreciated her showing it to him. Wally was waiting for him and looking at Vicki like she had sprouted a second head.

“Never trust a journalist,” he mumbled, blindly passing Dicky a plate of food. “Nice one minute, dragon lady the next.”

“Isn’t your sister a journalist?” Dicky asked, confused. 

“Mhm,” Wally said. “And Dad’s a cop. You’ll love meeting them all tonight.”

“Tonight?” Dick was confused. They didn’t have plans tonight as far as he remembered, and he wondered what he was forgetting.

“Dinner. With my family. At the Japanese place.”

“Oh. Right. Awesome.”

Wally just laughed. “They’re going to love you. I just know it.”

Wally was so happy his family liked Dicky so much. Dinner had been a quiet, if somewhat lively, event, with Iris and their mother fussing over the two of them as expected, and their father telling them to let them breathe. “The boy survived a coma, don’t smother him, Marlene.” Dick hadn’t even gotten a shovel talk which was a true surprise to Wally. Every boyfriend before him had.

Now, though, now he was content to hold Dick’s hand and slowly walk through the Wayne Manor gardens under the crisp, blue moon, the scent of flowers gently wafting by. In his head, some slow, “singer songwriter” romantic track played over this moment, filling the comfortable silence softly, like a movie. Life was like that a lot these days. He was always grateful to have Dick back, and he was determined to show him that every time he got the chance.

“Babe?” Wally said softly.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

Dick smiled, a big bright smile. “I love you, too.”

And with that, they kept on walking into the moonlight, content in their togetherness.


End file.
